Leaving the police station, he hadn’t returned to the same hotel as the rest of them, but to the less salubrious surroundings of a motel at the western end of town. Her dad had offered to extend his hospitality to five stars but Hunter had graciously refused. He was a private man, she guessed, who needed time to himself, the only way he could heal. She remembered their discussion the night before Samuel’s attack and how she’d thought to change him. There was no changing a man so set in his ways, she understood that now. It would be wrong to try. Hunter had his demons, his ghosts that followed him, but that was what defined him as a person and a good man.
She had walked the length of Central Avenue, past the landmark Wigwam Village, a motel where guests stay in rooms designed to resemble Native American tents. She didn’t give it much of her attention; she was too involved with ordering her thoughts as she made the journey, but now that she approached Hunter’s motel she wasn’t sure what she should say. She paused outside, studying the stucco walls that were grimy with exhaust fumes from the highway, trying to determine which of the rooms belonged to Hunter. The sun was behind her and reflecting from the windows so she’d no hope of seeing him. He could be inside now, watching her approach.
Entering the foyer, she was surprised to find it was neater than she’d expected. The air conditioning was on high and the air pleasantly chilled after her walk in the sun. The walls were whitewashed with garlands of flowers painted at the ceiling line. Soft seating upholstered in Native American blanket designs dominated the alcoves each side of a polished counter that glowed warmly under overhead spotlights. Jay preferred the atmosphere here to that of the stuffy, soulless place where she was staying. The motel was an ideal fit for Joe Hunter, she thought: the rugged exterior belied the caring heart that beat within. It was a better analogy than the wolf she’d thought of when they’d first met.
A young woman popped her head out of an office behind the counter, a beaming smile on her face. She was dark-skinned, and her teeth flashed in greeting, accentuating the highlights in her raven hair.
Jay smiled back but shook her head at the woman’s offer of assistance and pointed a finger towards the room she’d noticed to her left. She should have known where to find Hunter. He had a taste for coffee and she could smell the beans roasting from here. She walked into the small dining area and took the seat opposite him. He was nursing a large cup of coffee so black she thought of the dark side of the moon.
‘How do you ever sleep?’ she asked.
‘Would you like one?’
‘I’m good,’ she said.
‘Are you?’
She missed a beat, but then she nodded slowly. ‘Yes. I think I am.’
He lifted the mug, watching her over the rim as he took a long gulp. His irises reflected the dark liquid and the usual blue flashed chocolate-brown. As he placed the mug down she noted that it took a moment for the colour to recede, but maybe that was just her imagination. She suddenly became conscious that she’d been staring a tad too long and lowered her face in embarrassment. She could feel a flush creeping into her cheeks.
‘You look beautiful this morning,’ Hunter said.
Whoa! She placed her elbows on the table and her palms over her cheeks, then looked up at him from under her lashes. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls,’ she said, trying to sound funny.
‘Only the beautiful ones.’
She laughed in self-deprecation, but could swear that her ears were glowing furnace-hot by now. Hunter reached across and took her right hand in his. He held it across the table top. ‘I’m sorry, Jay. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.’
‘I’m not embarrassed.’
His eyebrows rose and fell.
‘OK. I am. Just a little. But there’s nothing for you to be sorry for. Joe… I, uh…’
‘There’s no need.’
‘No need?’
‘To thank me.’
‘Oh, God! How wrong can you be?’
Hunter released her hand, took up his coffee again.
‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he said.
‘Nothing that happened could be defined as pleasurable,’ she said.
‘Not even making a lifelong friend?’
OK, she had to acquiesce. There was that.
He stood up and she mirrored the movement.
‘I mean it, Jay. If you ever need me, all you have to do is call.’
She moved round to stand beside him, one hand trailing on the table. She peered up at him. All the heat had gone out of her features now. Her shyness with him, like her fear, was a thing of the past. She went up on tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, slow in drawing her mouth away, and as she did so, whispered, ‘And if you ever need me, just call.’
47
After waving the Walkers and Challinors off at Gallup Municipal Airport with a promise to join them in a few days at Jameson’s Cape Cod retreat, I drove back over the borderline into Arizona and picked up the road to Indian Wells. I didn’t like breaking promises, but this was one that I’d maybe bend to fit. Jameson had asked me to bring my girlfriend, Imogen, with me. Maybe that wouldn’t be a good idea with Jay being gripped in the throes of a crush on me. I’d beg out of the trip, say that business was taking up too much of my time and put the visit off for a couple of weeks or three. By then Jay’s romantic flush should have passed, and there’d be fewer complications. Jesus, never mind Jay’s crush, when she’d whispered in my ear I’d almost succumbed and taken her in my arms. I dread to think what would have happened if I’d given in to the weakness. Crazy redneck kidnappers and murderers I could handle, but two jealous women? No way.
I didn’t make it all the way to Indian Wells. I’d already phoned ahead and had arranged to meet with Scott Blackstock. The guy didn’t want to go to the Logan ranch alone, so we’d set up a rendezvous at the truck stop where I’d first learned of the frequency of women going missing. The old Navajo cleaner and his broom were conspicuous by their absence. I was sorry to have missed him, but when I asked other workers about him they only looked at me blankly. Not one of them knew who I was talking about.
While I waited for Scott to arrive I nursed a mug of strong coffee and mulled over the old man’s identity. I wondered if all the Logans’ victims had been female, and who else was buried out there in the desert. I recalled they had no love for their Native American neighbours. Plenty of ghosts troubled my dreams, but they were figments of my imagination, weren’t they? No, it was a totally ridiculous thought, but one I had trouble shaking. I was pleased when Scott finally arrived and I could turn my mind to something more tangible.
He had travelled down from the trailer park in his pick-up truck. It was battered and could do with a lick of paint, but it was still better suited to the terrain than my rental. I climbed inside the cab and Scott took the road out to the ranch.
‘My head still hurts,’ he said as we rattled along the uneven trail.
‘I didn’t hit you hard enough,’ I said.
He chuckled. ‘I don’t hold it against you.’
‘Glad to hear it. I did it for your own good.’
‘I know that now. You were trying to protect me.’
‘Nah, I just didn’t want you getting in my way.’
‘But you’re pleased I did?’
‘You saved my life, Scott. I’m indebted to you.’
‘You owe me nothin’,’ he said. ‘You avenged Helena for me.’
‘So you’re not mad I stole your thunder at the last second?’
He laughed again, but it was a melancholy sound. ‘Whatever I threatened to do to him, Samuel wasn’t going to come clean. He was just laughing in my face.’